


All Roads Lead to This

by debirlfan



Category: Airwolf
Genre: Gen, episode tag: Fallen Angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/pseuds/debirlfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlin gets pulled into a world well beyond her understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Roads Lead to This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caeria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeria/gifts).



Dom laughed. “It wasn't balsa wood.”

Caitlin scowled. “You two are damn lucky.” Crashing a biplane into a building had to be one of the most ridiculous and dangerous stunts Santini Air had ever been roped into, and that wasn't even considering the screw up that had put both Dom and String in the hospital.

“You call this lucky?” Dom complained, although he sounded considerably more jovial than someone whose back was in traction had any reason to be. _They were giving him the good drugs, no doubt._

“All I know is the director's got the studio breathing down his neck for improper supervision of a stunt.” As far as she was concerned, he deserved even worse.

Hawke gave what might have been a shrug, although Caitlin noted that he was careful to avoid jostling his broken wrist. “Well, they did put the balsa wood on the wrong side of the barn. Sounds like they're just afraid we're going to sue.”

“Ah...it's all part of the job,” Dom answered. “Besides, we're okay.”

“One couldn't tell it by looking at you.”

Caitlin turned to find the source of the unexpected voice. A woman dressed in all white, who crossed the room and reached for Dom's chart. She looked vaguely familiar, although Caitlin wasn't sure where she recognized her from. “Are you a doctor?”

Dom's snort of amusement was cut off by the woman's answer. “Yes. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to examine these two.”

Despite Dom's protest that she didn't need to, Caitlin went out into the hall to wait. It took some time, and she was strongly considering going down to the cafeteria to get something to drink when the woman came out of the hospital room.

“Okay if I go back in now?” Caitlin asked her.

She looked up, startled, as if her mind was elsewhere. “Yes, that's fine.”

That was all the encouragement Caitlin needed. She opened the door. “Well, guys, what did the Doc have to say?”

She saw the look that passed between the two men, and wondered at it. “I'm getting out of here,” Hawke said, distracting her. He eased himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “Grab my clothes out of the closet, will ya?”

Caitlin moved to do as he asked. “So, you convinced the Doc to spring you early?” She wasn't surprised. Mostly as a precaution, Hawke was supposed to spend another night in the hospital, but she knew he was itching to get out. _Not that he wouldn't be right back there again anyhow, visiting Dom._

“Something like that.” He worked the sleeve of his shirt over the cast, then returned his arm to the sling. Hawke finished getting dressed. “Cait, I need you to give me a ride back to the hanger, and we need to talk.”

“String...” Dom frowned. “You can't just drag her into--”

Hawke cut him off. “I know.” He moved gingerly as he got out of bed, undoubtedly bruised and sore in more places than just his wrist. Pausing as he reached the doorway, he turned back towards Dom. “I'll see you when I can.”

“Yeah,” Dom answered. “Just...be careful.”

_That was odd._ Caitlin followed Hawke out into the hallway. “So what do we need to talk about?”

He shook his head slightly. “Not here. Come on.”

-*-*-*-

Caitlin had learned that Hawke hadn't actually been released when the nurse stopped him on the way out of the hospital. After some delay and a bit of argument, he had signed himself out. Despite her steady stream of questions, he had been silent on the ride back to the hanger. Once there, she followed him into the office.

“Sit,” he commanded, dropping heavily into Dom's chair.

She wasn't sure what had gotten Hawke so fired up, or why he'd been in such a hurry to get out of the hospital. Something suddenly occurred to her. _Could that woman have been connected with the studio? Was that why she looked familiar?_ “String, if this is about that damn movie--”

“It's not.” He eyed her, and she got the feeling he was carefully choosing his words. “Cait, someone—a friend—is in trouble. He's been—taken.”

“Taken? You mean kidnapped?” Her thoughts went immediately to Hawke's art collection. It had to be worth a lot of money. “Someone is holding him for ransom?”

Hawke shook his head. “It's not about money.”

“We need to call the police.”

“This is outside their jurisdiction.”

“Outside...?” She wasn't sure what he was driving at. Not for the first time, she wished that Hawke was just a little more verbose.

“Out of the country. I'm going after him.” He hesitated before continuing. “Normally, Dom would go with me.”

Caitlin knew, in that instant, exactly what it was that Hawke wasn't saying. _That big black helicopter. He was offering her a chance at it._ She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Trying not to sound too eager. “String, I could go with you.”

“Cait, before you volunteer, you need to know what you're getting into. He's being held in East Germany. Probably by the KGB.” Hawke leaned forward. “We don't have any backup. If something goes wrong, we're on our own.” He levered himself out of the chair. “Think about it. Be sure you want to get involved in this.”

She wasn't about to tell Hawke that she already had thought about it. She had thought about little else ever since he and that helicopter had rescued her from Bogan. “I'm in.”

Hawke didn't look very happy about it, but he said nothing, instead crossing to the bank of lockers arrayed against the back wall. One of the lockers was secured by a combination lock, and he opened it, reaching inside to pull out a gray flight suit. He tossed it to her. “See if this fits.”

-*-*-*-

“You can take those blindfolds off now,” Hawke's voice came from the seat in front of her.

Caitlin pulled the strip of black cloth from over her eyes, and saw that Michael was doing the same, slipping the scrap of fabric over those glasses that he wore. She didn't know about him, but she had peaked a few times, through the tiny gap where her nose had held the fabric away from her cheek. What little she had seen hadn't told her much; stone and desert was stone and desert. She certainly hadn't spotted any landmarks. Even now, looking out the Jet Ranger's window without the blindfold she wasn't sure exactly where they were.

It had been a long two weeks since Hawke had first checked himself out of the hospital and approached her about accompanying him. Two weeks of unfamiliar controls and trying to cram Dom's knowledge into her brain. Now that the adrenalin of facing down the East German air force had burned off, she was exhausted. As soon as she got home and got out of her flightsuit, she planned to take a nice hot bath, then crawl into bed. Preferably for a week. Knowing how tired she was, she couldn't even imagine how the others felt: Hawke and his broken arm, Dom with his back jacked up, and Michael-- She didn't know exactly what they'd done to him, and wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. It was bad enough that he had watched a woman he cared about die—twice. And, that by all appearances she had betrayed him.

“Michael, I'm taking Dom back to the hospital. I'll catch a ride to the hanger once he's settled--”

“I don't need—” Dom interrupted, only to be cut off himself.

“Yes you do, Dom. We've got to get you healed up. As soon as they get the insurance sorted, there's more work to do on that movie. Besides, while I'm there I'll get them to check this cast. Damn thing itches like hell.”

Caitlin suspected that Hawke's comment about his cast was simply to mollify Dom, but at any rate it seemed to work as he put up no further argument. “Michael,” Hawke continued, “I assume you're headed for Knightsbridge?”

“Unfortunately. I need to drop off the serum and the paperwork we found.”

“When you're done there, can I ask a favor?”

Michael snorted. “Hawke, you flew into East Germany twice, kept me from killing half the committee, and saved my life. I think I owe you several favors. If it's within my power--”

“Feed my dog.”

“What?”

“I'm going to stay at Dom's for awhile, and the way I hear it, the Firm is making you take two week's leave. I'd appreciate it if you'd spend it up at the cabin keeping an eye on Tet.”

Michael gave a short laugh. “Thought you always claimed that dog could take care of himself?”

“He can, but he's not getting any younger.”

Caitlin didn't entirely understand the dynamic between the two men, but she suspected that Hawke's request had little to do with Tet. Apparently, Michael realized it as well. “Thank you, Hawke. I'll take good care of him.”

“Now that that is settled... Cait, once we get to the hospital, I'll turn her over to over to you and you can fly Michael back to headquarters, then up to the cabin.”

So much for her plans for a bath and bed. She didn't mind all that much, though. After all, Hawke had finally introduced her to that big black helicopter, and Michael had been the catalyst for that. She could put off her plans for an hour or two. “Will do, String.”

-*-*-*-

“You don't have to wait for me. I'm not sure how long this will take.” Michael indicated the vials of serum they'd retrieved from East Germany as Caitlin landed with a gentle thump on the helicopter pad she'd been directed to. “One of my agents can ferry me up to the cabin.”

She shook her head as she shut down the rotors. “I don't mind waiting.” Hawke had given her the job, and she was going to complete it. If the trip happened to give her the chance to learn a little more about the enigmatic Michael—well, all the better.

Michael chuckled. “You're almost as stubborn as Hawke.” He opened the door and stepped from the Jet Ranger. “At least come in and wait in my office. More comfortable than sitting here.”

Caitlin followed him into the building, stopping at a front desk where Michael signed for a guest pass for her. As he led her through the halls, she tried to look around without being obvious about it. Offices, banks of computers--if she hadn't known better, she would have guessed that the building simply held some tech corporation with an odd dress code. Most of the people they passed were wearing white, and many were women. There was a general deference to Michael, the majority nodding a greeting in passing.

“Here we are.” Michael opened a door, leading Caitlin into what appeared to be a large outer office.

There was a woman there, sitting behind a desk and working at a computer. She looked up at their entrance and offered Michael what appeared to be a genuine smile. “Welcome back, Sir. Although I thought you were--”

“I am. I'm not here. Just dropping some things off with Richards in bio-weapons. Hopefully I won't be long.” He indicated Caitlin. “This is Caitlin O'Shannessy. Caitlin, this is Lydia. Lydia, Caitlin is my ride, she's going to be waiting for me. If there's anything she needs....”

“Certainly, Sir.”

He opened the door to the inner office and escorted Caitlin inside. “Make yourself comfortable, Caitlin. There's a couch and there are some magazines on the table, if you're interested. If you'd like something to eat or drink, just ask Lydia.”

“No, I'm fine, thank you.”

He excused himself and she wandered to the couch, taking in the heavy desk, the screen that took up most of one end of the room, and the wall of windows that looked out to the west. She wished that she dared to snoop, but Lydia was just outside, and Michael might be back at any moment. Idly, she flipped through the magazines. Several issues each of _Time_ and _National Geographic_ , and a single lonely _Sports Illustrated_.

Lulled by the deep cushions of the couch, she stifled a yawn as the door opened, bringing her back to full wakefulness. A glance at the clock told her that only twenty minutes had passed.

“Let me grab a few things, and we'll get out of here.” Michael opened a closet door that she hadn't noticed and retrieved a large gym bag and a briefcase. “All set.”

He stopped in the outer office to speak with Lydia. “There shouldn't be anyone looking for me, but if anything does come up, I'll be at Hawke's cabin.”

-*-*-*-

Watching Michael from the corner of her eye, Caitlin noted the way he sagged into the seat of the Jet Ranger as they flew toward the cabin. The file on Maria had said that she was forty two, and her initial impression had been that he was around the same age. At the moment, however, he seemed considerably older.

“Caitlin?”

_Damn. He'd caught her watching him._ She felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Sorry.” _She didn't even know this man._

He seemed more amused than annoyed, and that emboldened her. “Michael, are you all right?” she asked. _Not that it was any of her business._

He let out a long sigh. “Nothing that eight hours of sleep and a few days of peace and quiet won't cure.”

She wasn't sure she believed that, but she wasn't about to argue. There were a million things she wanted to ask him—about Hawke, about Airwolf, about the organization he worked for—but she bit her tongue and let him have his space. Her questions would have to wait for another day.

-*-*-*-

“Michael, we're here,” she announced as she banked the helicopter over the lake.

From the way he startled, she suspected that he'd dozed. He gathered his briefcase and cane while she shut the aircraft down, then stepped out and opened the cargo compartment. Caitlin grabbed the bag he had stowed inside.

“I can take that,” he offered.

He was already carrying the briefcase and cane, and she was uncertain whether he needed the cane's support to navigate Hawke's uneven steps. “Nonsense, I've got it.”

She took the lead, carrying Michael's bag into the cabin and depositing it on the coffee table. Michael followed her in, the tightness in the way he carried himself visibly easing even as he stepped through the door. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go? Start a fire?” From the way he'd talked to Hawke and Lydia, Caitlin suspected that he'd been at the cabin before, but she wasn't certain. “ Show you around, maybe?”

He chuckled at that. “No, I'm fine.”

“Well, in that case, I'll get going--”

“Caitlin, sit for a minute, please.” He lowered himself into one of Hawke's overstuffed chairs.

She circled to perch on the sofa. “Yes?”

He eyed her with a look that made her wonder exactly what he saw when he looked at her. “Caitlin, why are you here?”

That was an odd question, one he already knew the answer to. _Maybe the drugs they'd given him had affected his memory?_ “String asked me to--”

“No. I mean why are you in California.”

“Oh!” She wasn't certain how to explain. “I used to fly for the Texas Highway Patrol. A few months back, I had a run in with a local sheriff and some of his boys and things got...out of hand. It seems that String ran into the same folks.”

“Yes, I know. Pope County. That situation has been taken care of.” The way Michael said it, she suspected that it had been taken care of even beyond what Hawke had done to the sheriff and his cronies. “But that didn't bring you here.”

“In a way it did. Stringfellow Hawke isn't a common name. It didn't take too much digging to track him down.”

The vaguely amused expression was back. “You found Hawke that fascinating?”

Feeling the heat again rising in her cheeks, she ducked her head. “Not just him.”

“Airwolf.” A statement, not a question.

She decided to be honest. “How could anyone who considers themselves to be a pilot _not_ be fascinated by her? I just wish that String trusted me enough not to try to pretend that she doesn't even exist.”

“There are reasons why Hawke doesn't want you to have anything to do with that helicopter. Reasons that have nothing to do with not trusting you.”

“If it's not a matter of trust...?”

“Airwolf....” He paused, seeming to search for words. Finally he continued. “Too many people have died because of Airwolf. Including one that Hawke cared very much about.”

“Oh.”

Michael got up from his chair and paced to the fireplace, pausing there to lean against the mantel. “I'm sure you want to get home and I'm not going to keep you further, I just wanted to thank you again for your part in my rescue.”

She rose. “I'm just glad I could help.” Uncertain of what else she should do or say, she headed toward the door.

“Caitlin?” Michael's voice stopped her as she opened the door.

“Yes?”

“If you're smart, you'll forget you ever saw that helicopter. For your own good, forget Airwolf and go back to Texas. I'll see to it that the Highway Patrol takes you back.”

Caitlin bit her lip. Michael wasn't the sort of man that one usually said no to, but she wasn't about to lie to him. “I don't think I can.”

He didn't really seem surprised. “Think about it, at least?”

She nodded. “I will,” Caitlin agreed, as she let herself out. _But she already knew what her answer would be._


End file.
